


Fried Green Tomatoes

by ridiculously



Series: Whole Lotta Love [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Kitchen Sex, M/M, Mechanic Dean, Teacher Castiel, Top!Castiel, bottom!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2014-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-12 21:08:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2124747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ridiculously/pseuds/ridiculously
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel was surprised, and more than a little suspicious, to find the Impala sitting in his driveway at 5:30 on a Friday afternoon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fried Green Tomatoes

Castiel was surprised, and more than a little suspicious, to find the Impala sitting in his driveway at 5:30 on a Friday afternoon.

Castiel was less surprised, though still quite suspicious, when he opened the front door and was greeted by the familiar cacophony of AC/DC's "Highway to Hell" coming from the record player in the living room and the off-key karaoke rendition coming from the kitchen.

He shrugged out of his trenchcoat and eased loose the knot of his blue tie as he followed the rough screech of "No stop signs / speed limit / nobody's gonna slow me down!" through the house. He leaned against the wall dividing the kitchen and the living room and crossed his arms across his chest. Castiel couldn't help the slow smile that crept over his face at the sight before him.

Dean had his back to him, which Castiel appreciated, as it gave him an uninterrupted view of Dean's denim-clad ass and his slightly bowed legs. Dean stood in front of the stove, hips swaying in time to the music. The sleeves of his shirt were pushed past his elbows, revealing a riot of colorful tattoos covering both arms from shoulders to wrists.

"Hello, Dean." Castiel tried to keep the awe in his voice to a minimum, but he really couldn't be held accountable for his body's reaction to Dean Winchester. Especially not when Dean Winchester was in his kitchen. Cooking.

The smirk on Dean's face when he turned from the stove clearly indicated that he'd known Castiel had been there. He set his spatula on the counter and moved to where Castiel stood, grabbing his hips and forcing him to dance along to the music with Dean. "Hey, Cas. Glad you're home."

Dean planted a brief kiss on Castiel's lips before turning back to the stove. The skillet sizzled with the sound of something being flipped. Castiel followed Dean and looked over his shoulder at the pan. "Fried green tomatoes?" he asked, happily.

"Fried green tomatoes," Dean confirmed. "And scallops wrapped in bacon because a man needs his meat, Cas."

"Well, this is certainly a treat. What's the occasion?" Castiel grabbed two beers from the fridge, passing one to Dean.

"I can't feed you after a long week of molding the minds of the young? It's the first week of the school year, Cas. Figured you'd need some help decompressing."

Castiel had been teaching high school English for five years and in all that time, Dean had never once made him a First Week of School Decompression Dinner. He narrowed his eyes at Dean, trying to work this gesture out in his head, but he appreciated it none the less.

"Decompressing? Well, I did have to give Charlie Bradbury detention for trying to convince Kevin Tran to help her reprogram the library's computers to allow access to something called MoonDoor. She's brilliant, but sometimes she is such a little shit."

Dean chuckled. "Is that why you're late? What'd you make her do in detention?"

"I made her translate The Hobbit into High Valyrian."

Dean outright cackled. "You made her translate Tolkein into Martin? You should have made her translate it into Elvish first."

"I thought about it. But I'm pretty sure she would have found a way to ask Kevin for help. She didn't get very far with the translation. We mostly spent the hour talking about dragons."

"Of course you did. Some disciplinarian you are, Cas."

"Charlie doesn't need discipline. She just needs to be reined in a little until the world is ready for her."

Dean laughed again and bent down to open the oven door. The smell of bacon and scallops made Castiel's stomach rumble excitedly. "That smells amazing, Dean. But how did you have time to beat me home and make dinner?"

Dean pulled the pan out of the oven and set it to cool on the stove. He shifted from one foot to the other while he looked at Castiel like he was trying to assess his mood. Castiel was immediately suspicious again. Dean worked until 5:00 or 5:30 every day and had never, in the dozen or so years they'd known each other, taken a day off.

Castiel tilted his head and squinted at Dean. His green eyes were round and his eyelashes, long and delicate, were now blinking at Castiel with something akin to owlish innocence.

"Oh, I know that look. Don't even try it. Dean?"

Instead of answering, Dean grabbed Castiel around the waist and buried his head in Castiel's neck. Dean must have been blushing, because Castiel could feel the heat of Dean's face against his skin.

"I bought it," Dean mumbled. "I bought Singer Salvage, Cas. Bobby and I finalized the deal this morning."

Castiel held Dean out at arm's length so he could see his face. There were so many emotions flickering across his features: shock, excitement, fear, joy, nervousness, and, finally, there it was: pride. Castiel pulled him in and kissed him with a fierceness he hoped conveyed his own pride.

"Dean!" he said between kisses. "Holy shit. That's amazing. Tell me everything! You're amazing. Why didn't you tell me you were planning this?"

"I didn't want to get your hopes up in case it didn't work out. Bobby and I have been talking about it for almost a year."

"A year?" Castiel couldn't believe Dean could keep something like this quiet for so long.

"Bobby's getting old, he's been grumbling about retirement for a while now. It started pretty casually last year, when he asked me to take over restorations. The old fool said I was too talented to be a common grease monkey." Dean made a face like he still couldn't believe anyone would complement him which such high praise. He shook his head and continued, "Anyway, we've pretty consistently been doing more business restoring than we have been doing repairs. Bobby said something a few months ago about getting out with the old and in with the new, so, uh, I called the bank. Those dumb fuckers actually gave me a loan."

Castiel could barely contain the swell of pride in his chest. Dean had worked for Bobby since he was 16, changing oil, rotating tires, and scrapping parts from junkers. He'd eventually taken on restoring classic cars (starting with the Impala) on the side until Bobby had agreed that adding restorations to the official menu of Singer Salvage was just good business. Dean had been in charge of all restoration projects for the past year, practically on equal footing with Bobby, and Singer Salvage had turned a pretty profit.

"Dean, I am so proud of you." Castiel pulled Dean in to kiss him again, smiling against his lips and pushing him back against the counter. He was just reaching his hands under the hem of Dean's shirt when the smoke alarm started beeping.

"Shit! The tomatoes!" Dean grabbed the skillet, where four cornmeal-caked slices of tomato had turned into black briquettes, and held it under the stream of the sink to alleviate some of the smoke. The alarm refused to be quiet, even as Castiel flailed his arms wildly in its direction, trying to deflect the smoke.

Dean turned from the sink and laughed at the sight. He pulled his shirt over his head and handed it to Castiel to help his effort. Castiel swung it back and forth furiously until the beeping finally stopped and Dean was doubled over and wheezing.

"Funny, am I?" Castiel grumbled, throwing Dean's shirt back at him. The sight of Dean's naked torso, arms covered in tattoos, stomach soft and still shaking with his laughter, stole thoughts of any further complaining from Castiel's mind. He was suddenly very hungry, but not for tomatoes.

"You're hilarious, you overgrown bird. Flapping your wings like you're going to take off…" Dean trailed off as he looked up, the glint in Castiel's eyes obvious. "Oh. I know that look." He repeated Castiel's earlier words back to him. "What about the tomatoes, Cas? I should start some more if we're going to eat dinner."

"Fuck the tomatoes," Castiel said as he crowded into Dean's personal space. "Dinner can wait."

Castiel grabbed Dean's hips and pushed him back so he was pressed up against the island counter top. He pulled the shirt from Dean's hands and dropped it on the ground, mouthing at Dean's neck as he did. Dean's hands went to his hair and pulled his head back so their mouths were aligned. Castiel licked the seam of Dean's lips, and when Dean opened his mouth to his tongue, Castiel tasted salt and cornmeal and beer.

Dean moaned into his mouth and Castiel's body reacted of its own accord. He rolled his hips into Dean's and they both gasped at the sensation. Denim on denim was nice, but skin on skin was better.

"Pants. Off. Now." Castiel ran his hands down Dean's chest and grabbed at the button on Dean's fly. He popped it open without taking his lips off Dean's mouth, and Dean's jeans fell in a puddle at their feet. Castiel returned his hands to Dean's hips, feeling for the waistband of his boxer briefs, only to discover it wasn't there. He looked down and cocked an eyebrow. "Going commando, I see?"

Dean laughed and pulled Castiel in by the tie still around his neck. "What can I say? I'm easy."

Castiel slid to his knees, kissing a line down Dean's stomach as he went. Dean's dick was pink and full, a pearl of precome glistening at the head. Castiel kissed it away and Dean moaned. "Mmm, Cas, yes." Dean tangled his hands more thoroughly in Castiel's hair and he took it as a sign to get down to brass tacks. Castiel swallowed Dean down, hollowing out his cheeks as he went. Above him, Dean huffed out a "Mmfffphg" and closed his eyes. Castiel sucked up and down Dean's dick, licking the underside on the way up, twisting his hand in tandem with this mouth on the way down. He opened his eyes to see Dean looking down at him, green eyes round but no longer innocent.

Castiel felt the strain of his own erection against his fly.

"Cas," Dean panted. "Cas, hngh." His hands cupped Castiel's face, stroking his cheekbones as he bobbed. Castiel licked once more up the thick vein on the underside of Dean's dick, kissed the head, and purred his way back up Dean's chest to kiss him again.

"Why are you still wearing clothes?" Dean asked, words muffled against Castiel's jaw. "Wanna feel you, baby."

Dean's hands moved to Castiel's belt, unhooking it and unzipping his fly as Castiel undid his tie and unbuttoned his white shirt. When his clothes had joined the puddle of Dean's on the floor, Castiel stood back to admire the sight of Dean Winchester naked in front of him. He ran his hands up and down Dean's tattooed arms, looking at him like it was the first time he'd ever seen him. Dean leaned in and marked a trail of kisses from one of Castiel's collarbones to the other, his soft hair tickling the underside of Castiel's jaw as he went.

Dean twitched his hips against Castiel and suddenly the world was tinted with lusty shades of red. "Fuck, Dean." His breath came faster with each roll of Dean's hips that followed. "Mmfph," he sighed as Dean's hand found its way between them to circle both of their dicks, using Castiel's leftover saliva and his precome to ease the friction of Dean's palm.

Castiel gasped against a particularly deft twist of Dean's hand. "You like that, Cas?" Dean breathed in his ear.

Castiel's entire body tingled with pleasure and he kissed Dean wildly in response. Dean's hand left their dicks to encircle Castiel's hips and pull him closer, as if they weren't already as close as possible. "Need you, Cas. Need you so fucking much." He met Dean's eyes and saw the same raw desire in his wide, black pupils as he felt in his own belly.

Castiel backed away and Dean groaned. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Lube, Dean!" Castiel called on his way to the guest bathroom off the kitchen. He heard Dean's impatient chuckle as he rummaged through the vanity.

He returned to the kitchen to find Dean lazily stroking himself. Any thoughts Castiel might have had about drawing this out, about taking his time, were quickly brushed aside. His dick was painfully hard and the look on Dean's face was one of unadulterated lust.

"You just gonna stand there staring at me or you gonna come over here and fuck me?" Dean asked.

Castiel flipped the lid on the bottle and rubbed some of the liquid onto his fingers. Dean smiled lasciviously.

Dean grabbed Castiel's hips and reeled him in, as Castiel reached behind Dean to press his index finger against Dean's hole. He pushed in to his first knuckle and Dean vibrated against him, taut like a bow string. "More, Cas. Ughh." Castiel obliged, working his finger in all the way until Dean was rocking back and forth, begging with his body for more. Castiel worked another finger in, stretching and scissoring Dean's heat. He managed a third finger and curled his knuckles, delicately teasing Dean's prostate. Dean practically screamed, and he bit into Castiel's shoulder to keep the sounds from coming out of his mouth.

"Please, Cas." Dean moaned and Castiel could no longer stand it. He pulled Dean down onto the floor in front of the kitchen sink, straddling his hips and biting Dean's full lower lip. He lubed up quickly, and moved between Dean's legs to line himself up.

He pushed in, driving forward in a single thrust. Dean sighed beneath him and locked his legs around Castiel's hips. The heat and the tightness were overwhelming and Castiel sank into Dean's body with efficient familiarity.

He rocked in and out of Dean, holding his hips for leverage. "You feel so good, Dean." His breath quickened in time with his pace and he vaguely realized that if he didn't slow down, he wasn't going to last much longer.

Castiel eased into a steadier rhythm, but was caught off guard by Dean's sudden exertion of force. "Oh, no you don't," Dean laughed and used Castiel's momentary surprise to flip them. Castiel ended up on his back with Dean sinking down onto him.

Dean leaned forward and planted his hands on either side of Castiel's face. His hips moved up and down unsteadily and Castiel had a fleeting memory of the first time they'd had sex, all shaking limbs and stuttering rhythms and coming more quickly than either of them would have liked to admit. He reared up to kiss Dean's swollen lips, and Dean responded with a roll of his tongue against Castiel's.

Castiel reached between them to wrap his hand around Dean's neglected dick. It was slick and heavy and Castiel reveled in the velvety touch of it. Dean leaned back against Castiel's bent knees and slammed himself up and down on Castiel's cock. "Ugh, Dean, yes, baby please. Like that."

Dean shook each time his prostate came in contact with Castiel's dick. "You feel so good in me, baby. I'm gonna come, Cas." Dean moaned and shifted into an almost frantic pace.

"I got you, baby," Castiel said as he pumped Dean's dick in his fist. Dean's eyes rolled back in his head, his body twitched once, and he came in Castiel's hand. It was a mark of great strength that he didn't just slump over on to Castiel's chest, but instead clenched around his dick and rode him once, twice, three more times before Castiel arched his back into his own orgasm. They eased each other through the aftershocks, Dean sighing sweetly as he leaned down to kiss Castiel.

They lay forehead to forehead on the hardwood floor, Castiel waiting for his breathing to slow. He stroked Dean's sweaty back, feeling the steady beat of his heart through his ribs. Dean's slow, easy laugh rumbled through them both.

"What's funny?"

"How's this for decompressing?"

"Well, my dick is rapidly decompressing in your ass, so there's that."

Dean laughed again and made to wiggle off of Castiel.

"No, stay," Castiel said as he tightened his arms around Dean's back. "You're warm and I don't feel like moving."

"Well, I'm hungry. And we're sticky. And I burnt the tomatoes and the scallops are probably cold. Which means the bacon is probably cold. Damn it. That was the fancy, organic, free range shit Sam is always talking about, too."

Castiel smiled up at him. "Fine. Haul me into the shower and I'll buy you any kind of celebratory dinner you want."

"Deal. But there better be pie."

Castiel groaned as Dean pulled him up from the floor. Dean wasn't wrong; they were sticky. So was the floor. And the kitchen was in a general state of disarray. Castiel found that he didn't care.

He turned Dean to face him and pulled him down for a slow, tender kiss. There was no heat behind it, just happiness. "I'm so, so proud of you, Dean," he said when he finally pulled back.

Dean blushed, but didn't break eye contact. "Think Bobby would kill me if I changed the name to Winchester's Wrestorations? With a 'w'?"

Castiel rolled his eyes. "If Bobby doesn't, I will. Come on, before you start leaking on the floor."

"Wow, Cas, way to ruin the moment."

"Shower, Dean! Or no pie."

Dean growled, but picked Castiel up and threw him over his shoulder, which was no small feat. Castiel was deposited in the guest bathroom's tub and Dean followed in after. "You know better than to threaten my pie," Dean said as he rinsed his hair. Castiel maneuvered around him to wash his own hair and when the soap cleared from his eyes, Dean was staring at tub floor with a look Castiel knew all too well.

"Hey. What's going on in there?"

Dean looked up, a sheepish smile on his lips. "Cas, you really think I can do this? I mean, me? A business owner? Christ." He shook his head.

"Of course you can do this, Dean. You know more about cars than anyone in this half of the state. You've practically co-owned the place with Bobby for the past year, so you definitely know the ins and outs of the books. And the rest of it? It'll fall into place over time." He reached out to brush his fingers across Dean's cheek.

"Remember when we bought this house? We were idiots. We had no idea what we were doing, but we figured it out anyway. We were young and broke, but we still managed. Dean, you've been working in that shop for twenty years. Running that place is in your DNA, and you're not going to forget that just because now the bills are in your name."

Castiel reached back to turn the water off. "If nothing else, just remember what you told me when I decided to quit working for my dad and start teaching."

Dean handed a towel to Castiel and wrapped one around his own waist. His eyes were hopeful, but tenuously, as if waiting for someone to jump up and take away everything he'd worked for. Castiel ran the towel through his hair and then wrapped it around his waist.

Castiel met Dean's eyes, willing him to see the faith he had in him. The same faith that Dean had once had in him. "You said, 'No matter what happens, Cas, I'll always be your family.'"

Dean reached for him, shy and needy. Castiel wrapped his arms around him and whispered in his ear. "No matter what happens, Dean, I'll always be your family."

Dean sighed and relaxed into Castiel. "Thanks, Cas."

Castiel kissed him, surprised when Dean pushed him against the bathroom wall and ran his fingers through his hair. "Oh, like that is it?"

Dean pulled back and smiled, huge and bright. "I think I figured out what I wanna call Singer Salvage."

Castiel waited.

"Winchester's Wrecks!"

"Wow, Dean, way to ruin the moment."

Castiel rolled his eyes as Dean surged forward, pouring his hope, his joy, and finally, his confidence, into his kiss.


End file.
